


Orc's Bride

by ShortMonsterStories



Category: Original Work, Short Story - Fandom
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fantasy, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Orc x human, Orcs, Romance, Short Story, Smut, Teratophilia, Violence, mentioned death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13208580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShortMonsterStories/pseuds/ShortMonsterStories
Summary: In a Modern-Medieval Mixed World, Orcs are often like loan sharks, who take poor victims to force them to pay for the rest of their lives. One girl hopes to clear her debt the old fashion way- Union.





	Orc's Bride

Words: 17,761

Warning: Slight dubcon, violence, mention death, vulgar language, and smut.

......

The meadow was wide, full of trees shadowing the small cabin, the land employing a farm, with a small hut for the single cow to live in. The property was dilapidated, never anything to look at. The land was lost in trees; it fostered a group of women alone.

There was no true amazing view where they stay, only the long, great walls of magic and concrete miles away.

She had always seen the wall, fencing the secluded community from the surplus of the poor bastards who needed it desperately.

She had been birthed and reared out of that barrier, the fence guarding the citizens against the rough and malevolent realm they reside. The inhabitants were a melting pot of classes, dragons, elves, Orcs, humans- everything in-between. The only race not allowed within the unit was Night Walkers, those who feed and lust for the life force of others.

To be born into the community was a privilege, advanced technologies, unsoiled running water, and safety. The protection was the major thing to her.

Outside of those walls, all the races appeared to flick a switch, converting hostile, irate beings who rob, kill, and pray on those who were pathetic or fatuous.

She had tried to save her family from this world, the world she had been plunged into since birth. Her mother was a whore; her partner had been absent presently after she was with her bastard child, and as for her. She was an adoptive brood her mother empathized, the family slaughtered by Night Walkers.

They named her Jehanne, after an ancient soldier. She was only fourteen but in this outside world a woman. Her sister, the bastard, was only three. She felt a motherly connection to the child, as her mother felt no maternal instincts concerning either of them. They merely existed in the same ragged cottage.

Her mother sold her body for the supper; Jehanne cared for her sister and raised crops to peddle to the enclosed city for the payments. No matter what the adopted daughter did, it seemed to never raise their status.

She had attempted to nanny dragon offspring, a career human women frequently join, nevertheless, with no enchanted schooling and her mother’s past, she was incapable of the task.

She tried to court herself to the single males in the city, but being an unpretentious agriculturalist separate of the walls, with no benefit of magical education produced the same result as dragon raising.

Nothing she had tried worked, the two women could hardly clothe themselves, and Jehanne had her belief Marisol, her sister, should have better.

Each day she had something to sell, she left to the marketplace of the city, only making her lust for life there worse. Women sported gorgeous dresses, sophisticated jewels, with fetching men wrapped firmly around their arms or waist.

She felt ashamed each time she vended, she was an artless girl, commonly in tatters with her mop in braids or drew from her face, muddy from a long day’s work. She sold plenty of quilts, food and more; yet, the expenses laid a heavy fee upon her head.

The payments made her existence backbreaking; the ‘rent’ was required by a pack of orcs, laboring by yet a different collection. To not pay for the rent would ensure death, as the policing force did not care for others outside their walls, this happened to all weaker creatures or ones without weapons. Women who found themselves courted or raising dragon broods were safe.

Still, an assembly of girls with one of them occupied in a brothel was left to fend for themselves.

The rent was once-a-month, a high rate that Jehanne found herself unable to reimburse for this month. She had no idea how to pay it, her and her sister shared a bed, as her mother slept on a single couch, and the cottage was one room, with an old oven, a small table and chair set, and nothing else. The only literature they possessed was Jehanne’s childhood book, which was now Marisol’s to teach her to read and write.

She had gone to the market, the sells small, sluggish than usual, and she knew it was just her luck. She had sold one of her corn stocks when she earwigged a few wives discussing the poor women who join in matrimony with the orcs, or, given their life to Night Walkers to pay off the family’s debt. The two young women continued to glance at her, making her quickly stare down.

She was a poor, lonely ole girl with no future ahead of her.

The mother and older daughter shared three dresses between them, not including the ‘work dress’ her mother kept pushed away from the public. The young girl only had one, Jehanne washed as she slept nude.

There was nothing to sell that would equal their rate. The mother had finished the day smoking. Jehanne had put Marisol to bed early in spite of the girl’s complaints. She then voiced the plan to her mother.

Her mother was standing out on the porch, awaiting for the pack as Jehanne wandered to her.

“Who says they would ever marry you?” Her mother remarks rather nonchalantly, her body language converted callous, leaning against the doorframe as Jehanne took a moment to pause, inhale, and gather her thoughts. 

“Then… I can give myself to the Night Walkers, they’ll pay me handsomely, they’ll-“ She was fidgeting with her fingers, hearing the sudden clicks of the high heels towards her.

She was smacked across the jaw, which immediately made her sob, shaking with each wheeze. There was a pause, before Rosalind wraps her arms around her shuddering body. She held the younger girl, squeezing her tight until the sobbing quietened.

“It’s our only way.” She said weakly, eyeing off in a humble movement fooling with her clothing. The older woman steps back, smacking her pale wrists off her skirt.

“Let’s fix you up.” She murmurs quietly, dragging the girl inside. As the sun sets, the time ticked closer to the appearance of the ‘tax collectors’.

It came sooner than later, the orcs rode in on boars, demotic wolves and more frightful sights for the girls to behold, as the dust settles the leader demounts his beast, stepping towards the door. They knew the girls were by now aware of their presence, now they awaited their sum of the income.

Jehanne wished she had more seeds for crops, she wished she had gone to the open market of the city more- she wished her mother wasn’t a strumpet and destroyed any choices the two daughters may have possessed for their social status.

She unbolts the thick door of her home, dense because of attacks, barren animals, and break-ins. The world always flung hazard to them; they couldn’t merely securely relax in their home without fear. Jehanne had used the last bit of fabric she had left to fashion a small teddy bear for her sibling, as a goodbye gift as she knew she may never see her sister again. She handed the doll to her mother.

“She is to be in bed by eight.”

“Yes..” She was smoking entire faggots by a single inhale, clearly stressed.

“She needs a bath each night, let her go to the market, read to her every afternoon, make her write her nam-“

“She is my hija.” She stood, positioning her hands on the pathetic shoulders of the adoptive daughter, observing; seeing each mistake in the girl’s eyes. She recognized this was her doing, and now she would lose one of the sable constants in her life. “Be safe, conejito, find other human wives- or elves, and come back when you can.”

Jehanne grins widely, “Take Mars out of here- somewhere safe and, where she can do better?”

The dimmer skinned woman allowed her own beam to graze against her face. “Of course..”

The two stole an instant to ground themselves, as the fresher departed to see the hoard of brutes, breath heavy, odor heavier- she felt her limbs grow fragile with each step from her door, leaving her family, her life- her sister inside to perhaps not ever see again.

This was all if the Orcs took the offer, if not, her entire family would be killed in an instant, she had heard of it- women, children, no mercy, as there was no time to run, they tore the house down before the pioneers’ had a second to escape. She knew her mother would have no time to run out with Mars, and Mars could not wake and hide well enough in the short amount of time.

She stood, feet away from the judges of her fate, the leader- she knew because of him being the biggest and worse smelled- smeared his nose, grunting out his exhales, his metal armor makes the subtle clinks with each motion. His weapons, a dagger, gun powdered pistol, and battle ax.

Imageries of her parent dying by those weapons flooded her consciousness. When the thought of her sister’s heartless demise by one of those weapons was the final straw, she plummeted to her knees, her hands supportive of her entire body. Her head fell, as she begun to ramble. “We don’t have rent- I-I wish we.. we did, but we don’t- I offer myself to any of your men in Union..” She felt the heavy orbs of tears to fall from her tightly shut eyes.

Her body was too petrified to lift her head, to perceive a mace being brought down to her cranium and knowing the fate of her family- she would rather perish not knowing what was happening.

The hefty trumps of the leathered shoed feet caused her shutter endlessly, she nearly pissed herself.

“Stand.” Came the demand, snapping her from her anxiety bursting daze. Her body fought against each muscle of her being as she found her standing on shaky legs. His indifferent eyes sized her up, she was a light Caucasian girl, her wide eyes were a forest green, her face was a fleshy pale, with a round shape. She had small, full oval lips, shaded a natural pink.

Her hair was tied back with a snug high ponytail, with some curl filled bangs framing the side of her face, she wore a modest Prairie dress, to her ankles with cheap work boots under them, the waistline was loose, the dirty apron tightening the waist’s place, showing the small waist and wider hips she had possessed.

The ringleader’s arm extended to the group, aiming to the two beasts earlier to him, as her head instinctively crooked to the two warriors. “Lurog, Juhka, choose.” He said simply, rotating and mounting his great monstrosity, as the other begun to get atop his transport as one came towards her.

She tensed, her eyes tried to tear away but nothing could have taken her attention like him. He loomed her, he had to be near seven feet something- a possible eight feet. He had a darker green tint than the others, was he the elder, or younger? They all had rough, creased faces; it was hard to distinguish age differences.

“Are you… Lurog?” She asked gradually, her hands folded behind her back as they had stayed since she stood as if a punished child, the monster turned and begun off towards the boar.

“Juhka.” He responded, straddling the beast; she was quick to hurry along. Her eyes turning back towards the cottage.

“Oh, can you wait.. A minute?” She asked clumsily, as he cocked an eyebrow at her, expecting a reason towards this request as she was quick to answer.

“My bag, I left it inside- I, uh, didn’t expect this… to work.”

“Hurry.” He commanded as she made her way to the porch, taking the carrier around her shoulder. It was a marketplace bag, comparable to human bookbags but leather with straps that buckled. It was one of her mother’s most prized possessions she had before gifting the item to her daughter who she knew needed it for the journey.

No one knew their den location; the mortal and elf companions were required to stay at the camp caution for escaping, and the orcs, of course, would never tell. Jehanne theorized since it was each month for payment, it took a week to travel there.

She began to try and climb upon the wild pig- but it was much harder than she expected. The green warrior, with little patience, took her off her feet and placed her in front of him by her dress’s material; he begun to control the animal to get them moving.

She had worn her bag backward; it rests on her chest instead of her back, as to not drive the thug off the passage. She felt the gut of him against her back, making her sit straight cumbersomely. His body temperature was roasting; she virtually sweltered by just sitting this close.

The silence was profuse, only rumbling, or one worded conversations among the orcs. Twilight begun to fall upon the long forest, she held onto the mane of the boar, staying quiet as the men decide on where to camp.

The forest was dark, long with no view of the exit, so wide she could see thick trees for miles; darkness enclosed them, past the immediate layers of trees laid unadulterated blackness. The trees were odd coloring, dirt green, with muddy or blood red leaves that give the impression of being bushy and coarse, the woodland was transfigured.

Many places were still mutated from the old society’s ways. This society was millions, thousands of years before her; they had demolished themselves from nuclear-powered warfare. When life began again, so many new creatures, plants, and more evolutions were created, crafting her world today.

Orcs were one of many, known for being hazardously intelligent in warfare and war tactics. The confined community reserved diplomatic ties to them, often offering wives to the higher-ups in the species. She wondered if their camp had any elves or mortals, dragons never gave themselves as spouses; as they never even wed their own people. It’s quite rare for a dragon to mate and stay with a partner.

The monsters chose to stop and begin the camp, she began to get off the boar before being dragged by the man who she rode with and being plopped in front of the fireplace they had quickly fashioned. She knew how this worked, she was on her knees as she begun to light a fire. She moved her leather bag from the licking flames, as she placed the hard skillet she was given.

After heating the cast iron, she was given the slab of meat, it was moderately fatty, she scraps it apart to use as grease upon the skillet. She had recognized she would conceivably prepare the meals for the pack, and had no concern- she’d rather cook than the fiends with mutilated, grime-covered fingers.

She noticed Juhka sitting right behind her, she continued to move and swirl the meat so it did not scorch on the hot surface. “I won’t try and run away.” She assures, “If I do, you’ll go after my family… Right?”

He hums as a response, as she poked and worked away at the meat, allowing it to cook without touching it for some time. She wipes her hands onto the apron; she touched her jaw, allowing it to rest against her palm. “What… Would have happened if you didn’t want me?”

“Dead.” He said flatly, arms crossed as she looks to him, the radiant blaze lightened his physiognomy, he had most of his skull shaven, but the top going down to his neck, a greasy, unbrushed Mohawk. His ears were pixie-like, sharp, stretched beyond his head with various rings garnishing the flesh. His hair was a fiery orange, vivid and viewable throughout the murky night.

His jawbone had a severe underbite, his nose wrinkled and pointed, almost like a crow’s beak. His lips thin and wide, all of his skin seemed jagged and quite dense. His locks were coarse, with dead ends longer than the actual hair. His eyes were a full pure black, as many of his kind.

She turned back to the meal when the hunk was securely cooked, she had watched for a way to remove the meat before the tall man treads to her, his knee brushes against her shoulder blades as he snatches the chuck, beginning to tear it without a single wince from the sizzling heat.

The men came, in muddled bunches were given rips and tears of the meal, the last given was Jehanne, getting the slightest portion. She couldn’t complain; she was the smallest one, the one out of the pack, and the newest member on the travels. She ate the meal quietly, keeping her eyes low as the same Orc took his seat next to her.

The earth-colored skinned males devoured what was given, chomping noisily and swallowing just as audibly. She folded her hands in her lap, the Orcs shortly had their fill and bucketing water upon the flames as they perish out, coughing steam into the air before the wet Earth was no longer passionate.

The small tents were shabbily made, to rest for one night, and quickly wake in the break of morn to travel once more. She felt the familiar grip of his fingers upon her dress’s neckline as he hauled her to the tent they would share. She tried to touch the grassy floor. “J-just show me, you don’t have –to thr-throw me ar-around.”

She was tossed into the tent; it was scruffy, made for a single night and without much thought. It was shelter, keeping her from the elements- it’s all she needed. The troll rested across the timeworn Navajo blanket, she crawls beside him, it was spacious, enough room for her to nestle in.

She was psychologically fatigued; heat from the travel made her sweat, and now chilled to the bone. She just wanted to have rest. Jehanne removed her shoes, any items, and placed them inside her luggage. She pulls a small cover, one her mother had sewn for her as a young child. She held it to her chest and exhaled.

Her heart ached, was her sister well? Did she cry? Miss her? Was her mother taking good care of her, she loved her mother with her soul, but she knew she lacked any parental passions. She laid upon the thick, textured fabric, eyes slowly closed.

The night paced on, the dark night made the tent pitch black, she was lurched into obscurity, relying on her other senses for maintenance. The warrior had loudly snored through the night; he was dead stiff, only moving his arm sleepily to scratch his face or gut, with indulgent mumbles and coughs of not getting sufficient air in his lungs.

His leather skinned palm found contact with her hip, she shutters, her head slowly lifting as she became fully aware in panic, she could barely tell where she was situated afore his clawed fingers vanished, seizing her blanket with them in a comatose condition.

The chilly air nibbled her surface, coiling as her back touched against his, the sensation of his warmth caused her to turn her body towards him, her body inching closer, her hands’ clasps together and become to nestle against him. His body had no response, she felt like a child again, cuddling to her father’s side during a winter’s night.

Her father had offered for her to accompany him, but she couldn’t leave her new unborn sister to hell, she couldn’t leave her mother to rot alone.

Her suffering through the years was useless, now her family was completely torn and apart. She felt her face heat advance, her breath becoming shaky as she finally allowed her eyes to escape and relief themselves processing what agreement she had truly formed. She wept silently, so rigid her body couldn’t produce sound. She soon found peace crying herself to sleep.

The moon concealed away by the heavy branches of the trees, the morning dawn was muffled by the same cover, crafting the leaves design against the tents, making it partially bright inside the fabric.

The morning came quickly; Juhka had allowed her to snooze as he packed his weaponry and shoved her blanket into the bag, hearing some damage in the interior. He saw her shoes and waistline apron lying beside her sleeping form.

He found that strange, since he slept in his armor and boots, in case of attacks during the evening hours. Humans were never equipped for random assaults; it’s how they were so easy to use. He tied his hair tightly up again, grunting softly at the tearing feeling against his skull.

His black eyes continued to stare at her, fluid every so often as he attempts to do his routine. He wondered why he chose to keep her as a spouse, Orcs, regardless of all of their heartless traditions, were strict with spouses and family. Men did leave and go fight, however, were expected to be fateful towards their domestic, he had never wed, never searched for a wife for his own.

Orcs’ wives brawled, loved hard, and prepared hearty, meaty meals. Unlike the wives, he saw in the Walled City and in the poor’s cabins. Of course, he had one in his small clan who married an elf, but it was uncommon among his minor village.

He knew this girl would be glass compared to his people; he touched her arm, in such a heavy sleep state she didn’t react. She was squishy, a plump body type, not like the older wives he had seen, middle-aged with their thin hair drawn back by bandanas and a child usually seated upon their hip.

She was developed, young, hair thick with brown locks of curls. His finger touched some of her hair tied back in the ponytail, twisting it along with his skin inaudibly.

He lost interest, his finger loosening away from her as he stood, stomping his foot once as she bounced off the floor by the force he created. She gasps, trying to find her footing as her eyes shot to him, her tear stained face glistening in the sun’s rays.

“Mornin.” He greeted, he grabbed the blanket as she was quick to get off the thing before he flung it within his own packed possessions. She laced up her old boots, wiped her tears off with the apron, and secured it before leaving the tent as he took it down.

She watched since she never saw any female orcs, she assumed as a wife she would not be brought upon these voyages after being brought to their municipality, but she still watched him destructed the camp, then contain it before hanging it off his large boar, taking mental notes how. She was once again dragged to the cooking area, given a piece of meat, and she cooked it while supervised by her fiancé of sorts.

The meal was short, the same rush as yesterday as they ate as if it was their last meal. She was given scraps of her own cooked meat once more; the tribe quickly completed their packing, going onto their domesticated beasts to leave the forest.

She rode with him once more; she gazed at the sights, the forest lead to a mountain far northern, the mountains were full of green jade grass, flowers she only saw in books, and fresh blue skies. This part of the world was untouched by any race, the animals dwelling in the forest and mountain not fearful of the orcs or their companions.

The world was full of animals, some before the war, like deer, rabbits, and others like purple birds and long, six-legged bunny hybrid creatures. The world around her was new and amazing- the farmlands had simple animals, either slightly mutated or animals before the war.

The travel was long and just as hot as yesterday. The Orc did not speak to her, despite her awkward icebreakers. He had no time for this, he had to keep his eyes ahead and watch for trouble.

Their sentences were short, gambled up, but somehow they made jokes and told their tales among themselves. The leader Orc had the most tales of bloodshed and victory on the field. As he told his boastful anecdotes, she began to prop against the other, tired of sitting up straight. The Orc did not correct her, his hands staying busy with the reins.

They stopped at dusk, dissimilar to the other day when they camped just before sundown. They stop near a waterfall; she could listen to the rushing waters from their campsite. Instead of being forced to a cooking station, she was taken towards the waterfall.

The cascade was stunning, with beautiful, clear waters inside. She was plopped in front of it, given a washing board as she could figure out the rest. She was given little verbal information; she wondered what would happen when she couldn’t figure it out.

The washing board was rather small. Jehanne had begun to position the board within the clear waters before she was met with almost each warrior’s attire; she was given a lesser chunk of buttery, black dotted soap. The brutes wore loincloths, actual deerskin pants, shoulder cloth for their armory, some wore wool socks with their boots, and fingerless gloves for the handles of the weapon.

No matter what they wore, they were shabbily laid in a pile beside her, as they left to bathe in the rivers. The only ones left unbathed were her and her fiancé as he once again watched her. She uses the board, used to the labor of washing clothes this way. She often did it in an old barrel they no longer used.

She scrubs, the smell made her want to gag. She almost wanted to cry, her world was crumbling- she was washing the socks of the ones who terrorized her family and forced them into poverty.

As she cleaned them, she placed them upon the cleanest appearing rock to sundry. She looked back to Juhka, who has yet to unclothe. She thought of changing to clean her sweat filled, dirt obscured dress, but she couldn’t think of being exposed in front of them.

She had the all too accustomed ominous shadowy figure over her, meaning Juhka has stood behind her. She was forced back up, taking the washing board and soap with her as they left the screaming beasts, cheering on one of the smaller orcs attempting a belly flop.

He had taken her to an isolated fall to wash herself and her clothes; he then stripped, taking off each article of clothing. She kept her head low, rubbing the laundry with soap leisurely as possible, as he left to the small pond of water.

She placed his clothes out to dry against the dangling brushwood, watching the water drip off the form. She thought of leaving to the camp, but could she handle dealing with the sweat and dirt another day? She was used to bathing in the river for a brisk wash at least every two days with her sister.

“Hurry.” He began, still in the water as she looks over at him. She got nervous, obediently walking to the sandy barrier of the water to the grassy land. Jehanne breathed, taking off her boots, socks, and finally her outfit. She kept her underwear on, sitting in the sandy little beach area as she tried to wash her attire.

The green male steps closer, keeping his distance as he watched her, she only focused on keeping her formality. She glances at him. “I’m… Planning to wash the rest.” She comments as he continued to stare, almost in a dazed state.

“Married, ain’t we?” His features became a blend of confusion and amusement. She inched closer to the grassy bank, frowning softly.

“We are not wedded yet, we still have some time.” She said matter of fact, as he grunts.

“Y’all gonna smell?” He inquired, her smell did not bother him, however, he knew how much this greatly bothered humans and elves, and it was one way to significantly offense or tear down one, particularly a female of their kind.

His sister would only laugh off this insult, not validating such a thing with a response. The orc grabs her ankle and begun to pull her towards the water. She began to kick and sit up, trying to get away from him.

“Let me get this off!” Jehanne whined, he soon released her; unhappy with her response. His attempt at playfulness was rejected. She hurried back to the shore. She was quick to do away with her brassiere and knickers, washing them vigorously as she was already almost drowned.

His one hand could overpower her entire body; it scared her more than anything. The young teenage girl had her legs closed tightly, attempting to keep her bosom shielded as she worked. She awkwardly left the clothes in a lush, cleaner area of the bank, too embarrassed to get up and expose herself more.

Her face was boiling red, she felt shame, fear- worse things dwell in the pit of her stomach as she was grabbed and charged into the waters. She gasps, he allowed her ankle go as she was quick to begin to swim.

The location was calming, once the gasping and complete shock dissolved. The waters were a clear, white reflection, the sand was a pure pallid tint, and the rocks all seemed smooth, with tropical floras and earth.

She removed her ponytail, allowing her hair to flow free as she held her nose, dumping her head under the water. She was quick to lift her head up, gasping needing oxygen in her deprived lungs.

Juhka watched her, her long brown hair looked like tentacles under the water. She was hasty to shot herself back to the surface; she swam towards the bank, as he presumed she was exiting. She grabs for the soap, rubbing it against her palms until it left a soapy covering over her skin, and begun to work it into her hair, and some upon her flesh.

She rinsed off upon the soft falls, the waterfall was small and rather weak, but it was good for dousing her tresses and body off with. She glances to him, “Do you wash with soap?”

No response, that meant a no. “Would you.. like to see how?” She swam close, and when he didn’t move back, she took it as a yes. She began towards the mass of sand, taking the cleanser and lathering her hands within it.

He was offered the soap by her, he took it within his own fingers, he began to rub his cupped hands as she had, feeling the studs form, he sat upon the ground of the water, so low for him he could sit in the lake without issue, Jehanne did not have this option.

Instead, she used his body to keep herself up as she done his hair, he did his own body. She pondered upon why she would do this; perhaps she hated to sleep next to someone reeking terribly, perchance she was so starved for social interaction this gave her comfort.

She finished with his mane; he thrust his entire body into the water violently before sitting back up, without a gasp or discomfort, which shocked her since she could barely stand five seconds of it and he was rinsing himself underneath. She knew why the Walled City drove to keep many tribes on their side.

The Orcs were not just worthy soldiers, tough and able to take far more damage than an elf but less essential than a dragon. They knew the land well, knew what plants were dangerous to eat or not, the Orcs travel, most humans stop travel once a certain age and settle down, or often forget.

The Orc’s mind was like an elephant, they were extremely intelligent upon what tactics would fair, and how the other army would behave.

The Orcs were many things, but they were loyal. They did not work for the Night Walkers and the Walled City.

The ones, who kill and raid the farmers along the land, did often work for the Walled City, but more than usual for the Night Walkers, who they gave the money they took to. No one really knows why the Orcs work for them, as the Walled City offers riches and goods for their loyalty.

She hoped they worked for the Walled City, for them to work for the flesh eaters would just kill any inch of hope she ever had for a good life.

The bath was short, they didn’t soak for long, as dark clouds begun to surround them, it was happening so rapidly. She had storms where she lived, constantly, but it never began in a matter of seconds.

He stood, “Storm.” He begun, going towards the land with such force. “Heavy. Normal for forest.” He explains in urgency, putting on his semi-dried clothes, feeling his rush; she hurried out, dressing quickly herself.

The spotted detergent did not hold the revolting fragrance the Orcs habitually retain, to her great relief; the aroma of dehydrated plant life and some other milky substances she could not recall.

The dark clouds created a dark, imminent shadow over them, she barely got on her bra before the rain came.

It wasn’t rain, it was large, almost baby fist-sized balls of water hitting the Earth, and hail itself chop from the sky with force to bounce back from the surface. It happened all in a matter of a minute.

She fell to her knees by a large border, going to cover her head to shield herself from damage, before she felt the rain no longer hit her. Her eyes shot open, to look above at the impending figure above.

When she crouched down to protect herself, he had placed his arms on the stone above, and pressed his legs to her, to make his body a shelter from the storm. Her face flushed in confusion.

“Wha… Why did you do that?” she asked, now ashamed, she was bare but only her breasts being clothed, with a mere loincloth against her crotch to keep guard against what was underneath.

She knew of intercourse, her mother made a living of it, and she was a woman now. She knew what was underneath and it made her more nervous.

“Tiny. Easy to break.” Was his only reply, his hair framing his forehead and cheek as it laid limp as if a fire cascade.

She leans back, sighing as she saw the jagged halts of ice fall against his thick skin and roll off so casually. She was watching the rain fall from her side for a painfully long silence before his deep voice snapped her to reality.

“You cry.” He states as she looks up with a raised eyebrow.

“You want me.. to cry?” She asked slowly, as each word drips from her lips, she sounded so much more confused.

“No.” He said diagnostically, “You cry, bed.” His head seemed to lean further down, his arms crossed upon the rock above her, making a roof over her slightly.

“Oh.. I miss my family, don’t you have a family?”

“Yes.” He said, rather too nippily. “Sister. Mother. Father.”

“I used to have a dad, but he left, my sister and mother are in the cottage you took me from.”

“Father dead?”

“No.. he just left.” She gauchely avoids his heavy glare, feeling his sudden hate and judgment.

“Disgrace.” He concluded grimly, Jehanne knew of her father leaving them would bother an elf or human—even a Dwarf, she never thought it would bother an Orc. His gruff hand taking her soft forearm in his hand, “Different.”

“From you?… Of course, we’-“ She tried to clarify before he opened his mouth again, now sounding much more infuriated.

“Different. From woman.”

This time she comprehended, diverse from the woman he always stole from, did he just realize this, or was finally given a chance from his usual group to ask such questions. She breathed out, taking a moment to actually collect her thoughts, how did she explain this to Mars, when she asked why she was lighter than her and their mother. “I.. was an orphan; I didn’t have any parents when I was a baby, she took me in, and became my mother because she wanted to take care of me.”

The Orc simmered on this, “She mother now?”

Jehanne nods, “Yes. I miss her, I miss her so much, I miss my sister too. So I cry.”

“Crying weak.” He said coldly, she shifts softly her knees pressed to her stomach, feet in his gut by how close he was almost crushing her. She nods.

“Women are weak.” She almost scoffed, crossing her arms, hugging herself.

“Women strong. Mothers stronger.” He quotes, whatever he heard that from, but she slowly nodded, in amazement. In all her life she was told she was weak or needed to wed well, an Orc- the monster of the forest- told her she could be strong.

Was this some sort of terrible joke by him? “If women are so strong, where are they in your pack?” She asked, almost cruelly as he explains with such smoothness.

“Women do hard work, farm, birth soldiers, raise soldiers, teaches them, make clothes. Women make warriors.”

She blinked, taking in this was why no Orc women were seen, rearing children was significant, which, from their philosophy almost made sense. They were powerful in large armies, women, who make the soldiers, would be valuable.

“Will I make soldiers?” She questioned softly, she wondered if he ever planned on bedding her. She would think not, for she was not his kind, but his maid, his servant in a sense. At least, that’s what the customary interspecies dynamic was. She couldn’t find herself ever being a proper monster’s bride.

“Make warriors. Wife.” He replies, his hand leaves the crossed position, leaving to touch her long locks of hair, that now surround her head and shoulders across the dirt floor. He caresses the hair, as she spoke up.

“Do you like it?”

“Long. Like me.” He swung his own ponytail, tightly wrapped up.

“Do Orc women like long hair?”

“No. Short hair, no hair pull.” He explains as she furrowed her light brown eyebrows.

“Do you pull hair?” She almost let out a soft chuckle, her first during this entire trip, he was quiet once more.

“Hair tied. Pulling no pain.” He explained, looking at him, his hair was tightly tied in the material, stopping it from getting any feeling. Though, the image of a mighty Orc being overpowered by pulling his ponytail almost made her laugh all over again.

“Will you cut my hair?”

Silence for a long moment, her chest tensed afraid of the answer, she couldn’t lose her hair, if she lost her physical appearance, she would faint, right there and now.

“Orc women choice. Your choice.” He said noiselessly, in a gruff mutter as he allowed his other hand to reach down, touching her soft shoulder, her shoulder was weak- everything on his mortal girl was weak.

His index finger and thumb made their way to her neck and collarbone, if so desired, he could snap her neck, and she would draw her last breath, and be no more. It would be his choice, he could end her, crush her where she lays and she could not place a scratch- even a bruise upon his hide.

She was so pallid, compared to his dark green skin. Light color, light movements- he could name a million ways she was weak- one was her fear. Her fear of him was certain, the whole cluster of men knew of it.

She hitches her breath when he touched her neck, possibly from the same thoughts of his. Her tears glistening just as they did that first dusk. His hand travels down, reaching her midriff. Though plump, she had an almost hourglass frame despite her weight, a busty form, wide hips- great for birthing sons- and a smaller waist, he could use her waist as a handle, grabbing her and using her.

They were expected to have a level of respect with Orcish women, they could not just grab and forcefully take them, it would be frowned upon, and a pile of men would surely attack them for assaulting their own kind. Though, a female would crush his skull before that was needed.

But females of other species were allowed, his own father even told him when dealing with other women to ‘Put weight. Keep fingers off face. Shove in’.

He could take her, and then force her back to camp to make supper. He chose not to, perhaps, if she was a girl he was prowling from, nevertheless, this was his wife. He pulled his loincloth upward, revealing what was underneath.

Her hand sharply drapes over her lips, as if to hold back a screech or bile from escaping her throat.

He held the girth, fingers wrapping around it as he moved his skin against her own, her head turned off, refusing eye contact.

His hips continued to move forward then back between her thighs. She was dry, shaking worse by the more contact by the moment.

He could feel her fear, his fingers moving downward to knead and massage her right breast.

He used his finger to rub over the soft skin, as she leaned her head away, allowing soft noises to escape her throat.

He growls, leaning into her more, she grunted, her eye twitching, trying to calm herself as he touched her crotch, massaging and squeezing it as she flinched, shifting in his hand as she was grinded on and touched, beginning to bring moisture.

The Orc rolled the tip of himself against her entrance, finally moving his hips to a line with her pelvis, he wanted to pound her, but he saw already he did not fit. Grunting in annoyance, he brought his hands inside the lips, allowing in a digit, it was thick, creating a groan from the girl.

She finally caught his black eyes against hers, she watched, licking over a crack of his tusk. This was his possession; he just chose not to physically break it- she just knew he thought this. She felt true disgust fill her core, her hips moving with his pattern as he removed the finger, stretching her out to his liking, he shoved two of his fingers inside her mouth.

She cried out in sudden shock, her teeth pressing against his skin. “Lick. Better. Comfort.” He said, wiggling his fingers inside her mouth as she gagged pitifully.

It didn’t taste as terrible as she thought it would, maybe because they just washed themselves, but the fingers laid in her mouth, atop her tongue as she kept the repulsed face throughout the session, he slowly removed it, watching drool leaked from her full, oval lips as he slides two digits inside of her this time.

He had seen these tricks performed by his leader during their raids, he begun to twist his wrist slowly, the fingers shaping her being as she let out a quiet, mumbled moan. He was surprisingly gentle through this, prepping her for what was to come.

She melted against his work, moaning quietly as she held onto his chest, breathing in sharply whenever his finger dug deeper than before. She looked up with doleful eyes, she couldn’t stand much more.

It was pent up inside her, swirling and becoming bigger as all she could do was have her mouth agape with quiet moans, begs too quiet to be heard. The Orc continued to touch her breast, squeezing and rolling it in his grasp as his other hand worked.

She was wet, aroused enough to his mind to use, his body shifts once more, aligning all over again as she took a sharp intake of breath, her hands quickly found his chest.

He spent a moment coating the rod within her folds, the heat and frictions making her tremble silently.

She anticipated pain, pain to make her violently shudder and cry, unable to feel anything but her own body breaking upon itself.

He slid inside the mere tip, she took another harsh intake of air, head leaning back, the emotions arise within her.

It felt wrong, almost, the agony stung her; there was no possible way for this not to hurt. She grips his flesh, his body tensed at her caressing him.

He only thrusts what was already inside until she loosens up, before adding another inch. He was patient and she thanked her gods for such a gift.

She expected him to shove his length inside, impaling her and claiming her like a savage. She calmed, the pain began to numb, growing used to such conduct.

She felt stuffed, panting heavily as she spoke murmurs he couldn’t comprehend. Jehanne had no way to describe such a sensation. But she knew she was enjoying herself, drooling softly as he found his base against her own, feeling the full heat and power of him.

Placing a frail hand on her stomach, it bulged out, closing her eyes and trying to find thoughts- she was blank, she searched for his eyes, finding two black orbs glaring down to her.

A snarl rattled his ribs, originating from her chest. She felt it vibrate against her as she releases a stream of steady moans, chapped fingertips touching his sides, scratching and caressing lightly as he begun to pick up the pace.

Her body moved with each thrust, her head jetting against the hard rock as she grunted, before she could cry out in pain he cushioned her with the palm of his hand, she felt him slide out, and then push in a pattern, his eyes close, head leaning against hers as foreheads lightly touched.

She was working a sweat, his pulsing self rubbing against her clit, making her shudder and writhe with each thrust.

His fingers colt with her hair, he knew he would soon finish, he felt her twitch and move underneath him, presuming this meant she was close to him, he abruptly shifted his entire body, now lying on his back as she straddled him.

The rainstorm had cleared, he had completely protected her from it, manipulating her waist as a handle, he began to lift the young girl up and downward, treating her as if a tool for his pleasure.

She learned how this worked quickly, her feet placed firmly against the grassy field, trying to elevate herself. Juhka, of course, helped her, moving at a quick speed she either grew knowledgeable or got ragdolled.

She was a quick learner, she felt so many excitements and grew more impatient as the road went, the Orc slowing his speed, giving her the control as he begun to touch her body, feeling her soft skin. She wanted more of what she felt, she felt in bliss, for the first time this trip she didn’t have dread for her sister or mother left in the cottage, she didn’t feel worthless after her father abandoned her, she felt powerful and in control.

Her body sprang, the bra keeping her breasts from doing the same, her hair was flowing in the air, he grins, enjoying his view.

The process presently finished, the Orc was spent before her, with a shot a powerful thrust, her face altering into one of pain, he shoved himself three times before she climaxed, milking him by her tensing before so tired she fell onto his abdominal.

She couldn’t catch her breath, her lungs felt enclosed. “You hurt me.” She said amongst her gasps, as he touched her back.

“Sorry..” He grumbles as she cuddled into him. He pulled her off, drawing her to his chest. The height difference made her think of her father again, of summer nights when they played on the field after a day of backbreaking labor, he would lie on the ground with her on his chest showing her the stars.

The last thing she remembered was recalling the memory, she awoke with sharp pain- everywhere hurt. The world was moving, she only saw darkness, and for a moment, she thought she was dead. She was dead and being supported to the afterlife.

No, when her eyes focused she was in his arms, fully dressed and being taken back to camp. She saw the vivid stars, the moon illuminating a path. She eyed down, she had so many marks, turning her attention from the bruising, her eyes wander off to find she was being held by one arm, it made her feel weightless and much skinnier than she was. He seemed much more caring towards her, and she knew of why.

He bedded her, and now realizing it with a certain sickening feeling, she hasn’t even had her first kiss yet. The orc pack was quick to crowd the two, awaiting supper, the ginger Orc placed her beside him, skinning the beast he had appeared to catch.

She wondered as to how long she had slept, seeing how it was dark and he had enough time to hunt and return to camp before she had finally stirred.

She baked, aching and exhausted, but it was well-cooked pork, she was provided with a bigger piece, and she ate it hungrily. She felt starved- she was, partly. The meal was short, as Orc who waited for their meals were now weary and ready to head to their tents.

Her fiancé emptied a bucket of used water upon the flames and grabbed her wrist to guide her to bed. She felt lucky it was not by her collar this time. The tent felt more welcoming, every time seemed to.

She was as blissful as one could; she changed into her undergarments to sleep, removing her boots and apron, to her dress to show a modest underclothing, a simple chemise, once white, now warped to a yellow tint. Pulling out her covering once more, she laid upon his blanket.

He kept everything but the shoulder and forearm armory, lying beside her in the bed. She fell asleep as she had before, slumbering against his back, however, after a long moment, he did turn and encaged her in his thick arm.

The morn was the same as before, he packed, she quickly got ready and cooked the last of the meat from his hunt, and the travel was less difficult during the next week. They spoke grumbles she could not understand, but she often simply lay against his gut and allowed the boar to take her to whatever location they chose.

The time to be at their tribe came a cool evening, she was prepared to cook, clean, and wash for the night as it had been for many days before she found herself from the beautiful forestry and mythical worlds to a barren ash land in a matter of hours.

Barely any plants; only pioneer plant life scattered, with a very short amount of animals. The world was dead here, it must have been where the old Society dropped bombs, these locations, still ill of the sickness of such a warfare, was where they shoveled off the species they did not want.

The boars walked slower, near their home. The tribe leader peeked at her, who was taking in the sights of the infertile lands. They made their way to a small cave, and her stomach turned at the idea of sharing a small, minor living place with an entire tribe.

Though, when entering, there was a differ colored stone, as tall as a building, blocking a wall. When knocked upon, it slides back, shaking the entire world with it. The Orcs paid it no mind, but Jehanne shook with shock and fear.

The stone once set aside comforted to her a large, thriving settlement. Riding into the village, she felt the burning stares and whispers of multiple dwellers. Her cheeks flush a stewed red before she felt pressure, looking to the source; he was squeezing her arm assuringly.

As they stretch amidst the buildings, she detected something. She estimated sheds or tents, with people fighting in the streets.

None of that, the houses were little cottages, not beautiful, but well-structured with wood or brick. The female orcs often were seen with children, not grabbing them roughly or beating them- however acting as parents.

Some had babies wrapped to their chest or back by cloth, some were fighting with their children using play swords, nothing brutal. She looks back to the Orc above her, then back to the world. The boars stop in the middle of the town.

Orcs leave to return home, but Juhka, the tribal leader, and herself. An Orc woman found her way over, she had been roughhousing with a few village boys, but now her full attention was on Jehanne.

“Aka'magosh.” She spoke clearly, her tongue smooth, unlike the male orcs, she did not grumble or breathe heavy with each word, she was able to listen to the conversation, she had a thick accent, something close to the old Society’s German or Russian, a lovechild of both.

“Aka’magosh.” The men returned the speak, knowing what they meant she was able to make another discovery. They did not just growl or grumble, they were speaking a language, and she would have never believed Orcs had a native tongue.

“Nalkroro iuk avhiuk akashuga katu?” She points to the girl, making her stand closer to the man. (Why is this girl here?)

“Lavor hauk offerun lav-li doram shal julion.” He gestures towards her, pausing in between to think for a moment, the woman raised her eyelids, leaning close to the girl. (She has offered her hand in Union.)

“Bhoghad..” She nods, skimming the girl as Jehanne took in her features. She did not know what she expected from an Orcish female. She wore a leather Valkyrie’s Skirt, cut in equal strips so she may run freely to above the knee, a fur top, fully covering her torso and shoulders, shoulder pads, leather wrist cuffs, and an earthly arm bracelet. (Okay, agreeing)

She had dark cherry red hair, one side of her skull completely shaven, the other had almost a pixie hairstyle.

“Leav'uk begin avhe riavualuk, Lyraesel liwo carrausan avhem ouav.” The tribe’s leader began, arms crossed as the two were quick to nod at his (Let’s begin the rituals, Lyraesel will carry them out.)

The group walked off, once she understood this was a language, she heard it all over the village, she heard children playing, screaming “Lok'tar!” through the streets with toy weapons or riding on baby boars. The wives cried out in the language as they greeted their husbands, and the husbands spoke in such a tongue.

The Orc children stimulated something inside her; she knew she would one-day birth an Orcish brood, what would happen to her poor child? Would it be mindless? Would it be a disgusting creature neither species could love?

The leader’s residence was unsurprisingly larger than the rest. His cottage ran greater in mass and cleaner than the rest in comparison. The door opens, and one steps out.

“Ah, s’beun avoo gujat. Aka'Magosh.” Spoke a pleasant voice, the thick door opens to display an Elven woman. (Ah, it’s been too long. Blessing for you and yours.) *Remove later*

Jehanne could have jumped, Elven were beautiful creatures, strong in magical talents, strength, and education. Not as powerful as a dragon, but certainly above an Orc. The woman came down the steps, opening her arms as the tall Orc was quick to confirm, embracing her.

“Godrun, nalkriuk iuk avhiuk?” She drew from the embrace, the eyes sitting upon the three who had been walking behind him. (Who is this?)

“Lavor hauk offerun herukelf auk ij maave..” He stood high, as she begun towards the mortal girl, she kept her soft smile. (She has offered herself as a mate)

“You have come to our village by choice?” She asked, Jehanne almost cried hearing someone communicating in a full sentence. The Orcs were ready to explain, but the Elf held her hand up, in anticipation of her answer.

“Yes… I came by choice. I chose to pay off my debt.” She gathered her hands, nodding swiftly as the Orc woman scoffed at her behavior.

“Brave girl. If your fiancé has not informed you, the weddings here are called Soul Bonding, and there are formalities here to follow. I promise none… Most, will not be painful towards you, an Orc’s wife is a precious thing.” She assures, waving her hands. “I see Juhka’s sister has already made your acquaintance.” She nods concerning the red-headed maiden.

Jehanne observed her side and quickly tried to greet the other woman as she held an open hand towards her, to stop. The elf took this moment to clarify who she was. “This is Juhka’s younger sibling, Glurza.”

She tried to hold her hand out, but the taller woman seemed less than interested.

Everything of her intimidated the teenage girl, she was certainly beyond six feet. Jehanne felt a flush of heat as Glurza begun to walk off. Her head turning to the gorgeous wife, who happily took her arm and walks off in the direction of her.

“Until he and you finish the Soul Bonding, you stay with Glurza, we both will prepare you for the wedding,” Lyraesel told her, walking to a small hut, similar to all the Orc’s living unit.

“Savop callaumn iav avhaav, iav'uk uko much deepas.” The muscular woman hisses, as the Elvan woman was quick to bow and seem to express regret in the language. Though, Jehanne could never tell you. (Stop calling it that, it’s so much deeper.)

The red maned female unbolts her door, allowing the group inside. The house was chaotic, jam-packed of broken possessions and uncleaned items. The only things in the house that were unsoiled and pridefully taken care of were the armors, weapons, and some odd look as structures, small like a toy.

The cottage was undeveloped, more than Jehanne’s small cabin. The cabin at least had an oven. Making their way through the small living space, there was two rooms, one, a living area that was cluttered, and two, a bedroom with a broken, peasant bed.

She was taken towards the bed, “Get out of those rags.” The Elvan woman directed, as Jehanne simply obeyed, going through the motions she has since the journey. She still wore her undergarments, as the elf looks to the beastly woman.

“Jiak liwo geav lav-li ukomeavhaumn avo wear; ukome moavhas muukav have ij mimba shal lav-li ukize..” She begun, going to the Burnette. (I will get her something to wear; some mother must have a child in her size.)

“I’ll be gone for a moment, getting you some clothes- take a bath and get washed.” She left, as Jehanne felt alone all over again. She would have to befriend her, even if the Elf treated her like a child.

She looks about for a tub, her eyes found nothing in this room. The Orcish woman took her out to the back of the cabin. She found a tub outside, cracked, but still lovely. She recognized it had been stolen, perhaps one of the people in debt with her brother.

With the calmness, with no need to walk off and hurry, she was able to take in her new home. Houses sprinkled the place, it was somewhere underground, the air tasted stale- not fresh air, and she knew that.

It had chickens, cows, and varies of other livestock drifting about, vegetation grew, and the place was lit quite well by numerous candles and torches. It wasn’t dim by any means, but not bright. You could see far enough.

Her backyard was occupied of a mini plantation, with vegetation- some she has never seen, was growing, and cash crops of the Walled City, things she grew to sell in the markets as cotton and an evolved plant, similar to tobacco, addictive yet healthy.

Glurza walked off, leaving Jehanne to survey the world as she got the bucket. It seemed softly warm as she pours it into the tub. Jehanne steps back as the liquid splashing within the porcelain walls.

Her abode, like many, had no roof, just the wood covering on top made in a simple color, with a door in the front and back, with only a few windows. It was slight, meant for one, maybe two people.

The Orc woman crossed her arm. “Strip.”

Jehanne looped her finger, making an effort to signal for the sister to turn. The woman rolled her eyes, huffing as if she was asked of something great, and turned. Jehanne quickly undressed, stepping into the tub, she was a little surprised to find water tepid.

She began to cup the water, sloshing it down her extended, matted mane. It was a slow process, and the Orc seemed to have no time for it, grabbing the back of her head, and thrusting her forward as Jehanne was submerged into the marine.

She swung her arms, wiggling her hips as she was forced beneath the bath’s contents, unable to breathe as she felt sudden weakness, her head was yanked upward, all she could do was wheeze, coughing as water left her throat.

Her eyes met the others, her hair draping over her features as she shivers, now traumatized wanting to leave the bathtub. The Orc grabbed some glass bottles, handing them over to her in a hurried fashion. Impatience ran in the family, she supposed.

The bottles held different colored, thick sauce. She pulled off the cork, allowing some to slop upon her palm.

Grunting to grab her attention, the green woman scraped her fingers through her minor hair, trying to display what the bottles were for. Jehanne massages it through her hair; it was cold, even for being outside.

Though, the Cave Village seemed cool anyhow. No natural sunlight maybe? She did not know, she used all three bottles, one green, one yellow, and one a light creamy pink. She peacefully caresses her skull, when she tried to rinse it out, the younger sister swatted her hand away.

She grabs her wrist in shock: the Orc woman shook her head softly. She wished she could understand whatever that woman wanted from her. The woman sat on the floor beside him.

“What… Do you do?” She asked slowly if she was to live with this girl for hours, days- maybe even months, she would be on good terms, she got on good terms with her new Soul Bonder- whatever, and she would with the family.

“Train boys.” She explains, holding a sword, clasping it high, smugness coursing through her.

“Do you, do you do anything with girls?”

“Train women.” She sniggers, laying the sword on the patch of grass- this community had patches of soft dirt, sand, and grass all around, no one piece of land was a continuous state of either.

She nods, “Do you like me?” She felt unwanted by this woman, did she feel protective of her older brother? Or general distaste for humans she had thought all these creatures possessed before this last month.

She paused, “No knowing.” She wiped her nose with her wrist. Jehanne glanced to her, then to the water. The women had almost all the same features as the males. Robust jawlines, dark to black eyes, and tusks, however, their tusks were a bit petite, their noses less piglike, and their skin, though battered, scarred, and thick seemed softer, but not silky.

Her ears were far past her brother’s: all the tribe’s women had long ears, packed of dangling earrings and gauges. It hung as if tugged multiple times.

The elf luckily came to dissolve the uncomfortable stillness, bringing clothes.

She was taken out, embarrassed to be undressed in front of such a beautiful person- an elf no doubt. It was humiliating to be seen as this, her body was bigger than her mother’s and other women she saw, embarrassment always boiled within her when she was exposed in front of others, showing her body made her feel uglier.

“These clothes should suit you well, I know your culture often has women wear skirted attire, but I do believe pants or shorter kilts might be best for now.” The elf explains, handing over the outfit as Jehanne looked for underclothes.

“Oh, their nation has nothing of that nature, we will get yours washed shortly, for now, no one will see you- or judge you.” She assures, the peach-colored spouse handed her the clothes, allowing her to change quickly.

She sported a pelt top, tight, almost a corset with relieving amount of support for her breasts. The pants were loose, held to her frame by a hide’s belt. She looks at the getup, moving the ankle boots about the dirt to watch them move. They weren’t Walled City fashion, but they were so much more attractive and new than her farm’s boot.

It was handmade, it was tanned here, stitched here, she could tell, and wondered how in-depth this civic was.

“Lavor almoukav lookuk like ni ro uuk.” The tougher woman laughs, eyeing her as she looks to the elf bemused, who she found smiling and nodded softly. (She almost looks like one of us)

“There, you’re ready to meet his mother.” Lyraesel held her hands to her side gracefully, as the buff warrior maiden places her hands upon her hips.

“Mother? I’m meeting.. His mother?” Jehanne held onto the collar of the corset, it was sleeveless, it made her feel a little exposed, not the attire she would wear to meet her husband’s mother.

“His father has sadly passed; the first practice in the ceremonial is to be approved of by the parents, or family, of your Soul Partner.” She explains, she sat the woman upon a tree stump, quickly brushing her hair out with a silver brush.

“What are all the ritual things?” She asked, whatever the thick substances were, helped her hair be less agonizing to disentangle.

“You must be approved of by the family, you battle the trainer, which is his sister, and then prepare a feast for the village, and the night of Soul Bonding is much like wedding customs. There will be a big feast, music, a ritual, and you two will spend the night together.” She explains, brushing it out and making quick work to fix it.

“I have to battle someone?- How.. how was it for you?”

“The battle? Rough, Glurza trains all the warriors, girls and boys. She won’t go easy on you, but not to worry, I am a healer. You’ll be a lovely bride.” She Dutch braids the top, allowing that simple braid go down her back, having her curls flow. “The Soul Bonding to me was quite dreadful; I had no one in my language to tell me what was going on. Luckily, I found an enchantment to help me, it’s an enlightening spell.”

She almost cooed, finishing the half up, half down braid she created. She places a white, rock-like choker on her neck, she gasps, touching it in shock as she realized what the material was. “It’s… it’s teeth..”

“This is a tradition in our village, men give their soon to-be-spouses jewelry made from their enemies.” She held up a bracelet made from diverse bones of different species. “It is beyond morbid. But they do it to prove they can protect and give you soldiers.”

“He made this?”

“Help of his mother.” She walks past her, going off to lean against a tree. Unlike the rest of the world, she wore clothes close to her culture. “Glurza, Mead. Moavhas liwo wanav iav.” She rolls her wrist, as the buff woman grumbles, walking off. (Mother will want it)

The Elvan woman summoned her, as the adolescent swiftly came to her side; she was observing a cluster of dwellers. Lyraesel hums softly watching them, “I know you’re scared, battling, making an entire feast- getting accepted…. But this Village will grow on you.” Her radiant, neon green eyes shadowed a small child.

“Your children will not be some disgusting beast.” She guarantees, her finger aiming towards a small group of children in the dirt streets, away from some of the houses.

Jehanne inched closer, trying to take the sight of the playing group. The children were brown, dark green, and other colors natural of the Orcish people. But pure diamond blonde catches her eyes, she saw a young girl, she had small tusks, almost just fangs upon her lower jaw, a slight overbite, and long ears- longer than any child she has seen. She had light skin, peach, with a soft tint of green. The blonde hair frames her face; she wore a simple peasant’s dress.

Jehanne stood in shock, she had never thought of the model beautiful, slender Elf being a mother.

“The Tribe’s chief’s daughter, an Voldur.” She whispered, almost mockingly as she tucked a pinch of hair behind her ear. She crossed her arm, she had the pure blonde hair of her daughter, with it up elegantly in an updo, having bangs and sides of her hair bordering her facial features, her dress was beautiful, scarlet, with gold rings on her elbows with white fabric slit to the rings so it flows about her arm, the waist had winding gold lines. She wore jewelry and what seemed to be makeup; she didn’t seem to fit in the role of an Orc’s wife. “Your children will be fine here, safe even.”

“Why don’t women leave here?”

“Orcs rarely change their ways, before the Walled City, before our Society, there was constant warfare. The Orc’s families were targeted, an Orc can die in battle and have honor, but if his family was killed, he was weak.” She played with the bone bracelet softly, eyes ahead, refusing eye contact. “Women were just breeders then, to protect their generations and wives they dug their villages underground in caves and taught the women to be warriors.”

“Glurza is the first warrior trainer to be a woman, the Orc’s are progressing.. Slowly, but surely.” The elf closed her eyes. “We can’t force change, but being here, my daughter being here, you being here, is going to help.”

“Is that.. Why you married him?” She asked, turning her head as the mother smiled softly, turning to meet her gaze.

“When I was twelve, my parents were killed by Night Walkers, I was left parentless, but a village took me, a family of uneducated elves took me in for a number of years. I was lucky enough to actually study in my lessons, I was like you, and I gave myself to them just as you did.” She softly grips the bark of the tree, clearly saddens by the memories of the tragic event.

Jehanne looks off, rubbing her arm gracelessly. “I lost mine too, I was just a baby, I can’t imagine losing them when you.. actually knew them.” She looks off, touching the braid. “Um, at least you and your daughter are safe now.”

“Better off than the village I was shoveled too.” She smiles, “I got my child out of this, a Voldur. A very rare species.”

“What is your daughter’s name?” Jehanne inquired, hoping to show she was truly interested.

“I allowed my husband to name her after his mother, Kerylu.” She touched the girl’s shoulder, her black, long nails mildly dig into her skin. “We should leave shortly; their mother will be delighted to meet you.” She left an unexpected graze of her lips upon her forehead, leaving the girl behind.

Jehanne took a moment to take in what had happened, turning to follow.

The village still continued as usual, though as they walk past Kerylu and her little friends, she simply nodded to her mother and continue her play, she slightly expected her to greet her parent.

“Voldurs are naturally neutral and quiet people, my daughter distinguishes I know she loves me, and I love her.” She smiles. “Half human, half-orc people are always so messy to figure out, but you’ll learn in time, a mother knows best.” She continues down before going to a small cottage, just off the beaten path and as close as isolated as they come.

The elf, Orc, and human found themselves on the porch, where an elderly Orcish woman sat on a rocking chair, nonchalantly swaying.

She never assumed of seniors in the tribes of Orcs, she figured they executed who wasn’t strong enough to kill. She had wrinkles, mountains of thick skin, her lips perked out, with her tusks cracked and aged. She looked timeworn, her hair in a loose ponytail, all the way to her feet. She had no shoes, but wore a comfortable deerskin dress, with Navajo patterns at the rim of the skirt reaching her calves and hung by one shoulder.

“What has brought you, child?” She grumbles, no detestation or irritation, but blankness in her tone. Jehanne held onto the Elf’s sleeve.

“She can speak the Walled City’s tongue?” She murmurs, as the Elf shook her head.

“I have gifted you Enlighted Spell.” She was barely above the whisper, but there was a clear grin on her face. Jehanne spoke up.

“Ma’am, I’m your son’s.. Mate.”

“Not yet, Mortal. I choose your fate.”

She tensed, as Glurza laughs, smacking the delicate girl’s back. “She got you good!”

It was weird to hear their voices, to understand their words and recognize the fact they weren’t savages that just spoke two or three words a broken sentence.

“Sit beside me, Weakling.” She waves to the seat towards her, though the rude nickname she had a warm smile. Jehanne sat, as the Elvan leans against the porch’s pole, acting as if in a painting, looking off in such a casual pose.

The Orc flops onto the steps of the porch, happily checking her dagger.

“My son chose you, because of me.” She moved her ponytail to touch it. “My old Tribe didn’t like Redheads.” She began, her hair was a dark red, darker than her daughter’s. “They were travelers; they left me right at birth in a field to die. I suppose the ranch found me at the edge of death and brought me home. It was a group of men, no women, and the moment I could hold something and walk they put me to work, but they loved me, and treated me as their own.”

She looks around the village fondly. “Before long, this tribe tried to harass them, and found me, they took me in and never bothered the men again. I found a nice blonde warrior who gave me this.” She held up her ring, showing a small skull attached, as if a diamond “The rest is history, as you see.”

“My husband, during a war against the Night Walkers, was even saved by a human, no doubt my brood would help with your debt. Feel grateful.” She said, “I’d never mate anyone but my own race.”

“I’m.. Very grateful ma’am, I hope the men are doing well.” She sat up, her hands folded on her lap as she tried to meekly beam to the woman.

“They’re long past, I will soon as well, but I want grandchildren before I do, Glurza won’t ever bear children.”

“When a man can defeat me in battle, he can mate with me.” She said harshly, looking to her mother with distaste of the matter.

“Drop your standards, your tusks aren’t big enough for such high expectations of men.” Snapped the older woman, kicking at her daughter’s back, but never truly making contact. Jehanne spoke up.

“What should I know about your son?”

“He is impulsive, he is a kind soul, and he likes any meal that’s hot and has meat. I swear that boy would eat a raw pig if you plate it.” She shook her head, “He doesn’t have high standards, and he’s old. He’s, what you people call middle-age and never mated. What a prize you have.”

“Is that why I was given to him?” She raised an eyebrow, Glurza snickers softly.

“No, he’s an amazing warrior and blacksmith, the Chief finds him as a good friend since boyhood. He wanted him to find a Soul Partner long ago.” She rocks softly. “What a quiet tot he was, his sister? She would eat the dirt off the floor and cry all day.”

“I was normal.” Glurza protested.

“I love you child, but you were hard not to crush the skull of.” She leans her head back, listening to the sounds of the underground cave.

“You raised wonderful people.”

“Wonderful Orcs. Highly respected.” She drones, “I am happy for my son to find a weakling as you, I would approve of anyone at this point. You may mate my son; understand the privilege of such an honor.”

“Oh ma’am I do, I do ma’am, thank you.” Jehanne quickly shook her hand; the older woman appeared puzzled, but enjoyed her gratitude, closing her eyes.

“Give me strong girls and boys, ones who can leave this tribe and fight.” She clasps her fist and then relaxed again. “I want a nice visit; tell me who you are and your parents.”

“I’m Jehanne Velasco, I am an adopted daughter and farmer, I used to raise crops and sell them to the Walled City.”

“Oh how boring… I am Snakzob SkullCrusher.”

“Nice to meet you- So, Glurza and Juhka SkullCrusher?”

“A pair of Soul Partners gains their last name by the honorable act of the man, my children do not share my honor name.” She explains, playing with her straight, frizzy red hair.

Glurza spoke up, “Ma, can we talk about anything else?”

“Hush now, she’s trying to learn.” She waves her off.

The visit was oddly pleasant, the mother is rough and vulgar, but truly had a love for her children, Glarza seemed annoyed at her constant badgering. When they left, the mother and daughter hugged tightly, as Snakzob stood, walking into her small home.

Lights began to be blown out, the cave becoming murkier as the elf departed, taking her child in her arms and carrying her home after a long day of play.

The two made their way home, Glurza laid out a blanket for Jehanne to sleep on before changing into sleepwear. Glurza wore a simple cloth of a gown, full of tears and stains. Jehanne was given a second one to wear, going and changing into the attire.

The night was quiet, no goodnights or a single acknowledgment of them as they both left to rest.

The week span out well, her fiancé had to leave for another trip, the battle was between her and the trainer Glurza, who won of course, and Jehanne had no spare skin without a bruise or open wound, luckily, the Elf restored her so the agony wasn’t long.

The ritual planning was simple, in the clearing, the Chief would say his words, the male mate kissed the female mate, and they would leave for a feast, then finally home. It sounded nice, and soon she would officially be apart of the tribe.

The night he returned she did not see him; in fact, she had not left the sister’s cabin since he had returned home.

“He can’t see you until the ritual.”

“That sounds romantic; we have customs like that too.” She looks up at Glurza smiling, the two were not close, but it was less closed off.

The elf hums, she cleansed once more, and her hair was brushed out.

“I could do my own hair.” Jehanne offers, the elf scoffs.

“Nonsense, this is your big day. The mother of the chief did mine, it is by tradition a sister, but he had only five brothers.” She explains smoothly as she worked. “Besides, my Kerylu has her father in her, she hates when I even do pigtails.” She seemed annoyed at that, which made sense, Elves, at least Noble blood, loved to look stylish. “She kept tarnishing all the gorgeous dresses from the Walled City. I finally had to make such poor wears.”

“I am very sorry.” She fidgets, she wished she had such wealth to spend- it almost hurt knowing where her hard labor was spent upon, “I’m sure if you have another they will love to dress up.”

“I sure hope so.” She touched her stomach.

Her eyes expand. “Are you?” She questioned astonished, she still looked so thin, was it early? She felt the heat rise, she wondered of the night at the waterfall, she had tried hard to push back those thoughts.

“Yes, an elf knows before any other species.” She went to her chest that lay on the bed, inside was containers and a single hair stick. She got a dark dyed paper, “Press it to your lips, not anything else. This stains.”

Obeying, she pressed her lips to the piece of paper as she opened a glass jar of dark contents, she filled in her eyebrows with a brush, the next was a moister cosmetic, gently placing it upon her cheeks. She then removed the lip stain, leaving her lips a dark red. “Let’s see the dress.”

The Orcish woman laughs softly, “So much work, she’ll just be ravaged tonight.” She ridiculed, eating a piece of bread.

“Did you steal more food?” The Elf frowns, picking up the stick, it was silver with a round opal gem at the top, some tangling silvery beads.

“I can’t help it, she can cook.” She said between chewing, Jehanne had spent the last week cooking the entire village a meal, it was backbreaking work, but the whole village offered provisions so she didn’t worry about using all of Glurza’s foot supply.

“What’s this?” Jehanne watched in the mirror as it slid into her hair, it was a simple flower braid, her hair flowing down.

“A family possession, my family has worn it through my bloodline on wedding days.”

“You’re always so kind to me..” Jehanne sighs happily, she felt safe and warm all in one moment as the Elf goes to her supply box. “Thank you.”

“I see much of myself in you, fear, dread, and self-hatred. You’ll soon grow out of it.” She promises, she pulled the shoes from under the bed, handing them off to the girl. It was a pair of Moccasins; she slips them on, going to look in the mirror.

“Why do you always have my hair down?” She chuckles, touching her hair as the Elf begun to put her things neatly away.

“Lovely curls should be shown off.” Lyraesel touched her straight hair; the Nobles usually falsely curled their hair, not having the genetics to keep curled mops. Jehanne touched her hair, staring into the looking glass.

She had a white buckskin ceremonial dress, just at the knee with sleeves ending just at her knuckles. She looks at her mirror with a wide smile, it was not what she wanted for her wedding, she always wanted a princess dress, a handsome man, and her sister there, her smile fades at the thought of her sister’s face.

“So why did you choose white?” Glurza asked, swallowing the last piece of the bread.

She was happy to have her mind off the painful topic. “White, in my mother’s culture means purity and being a virgin.. many humans choose white.”

“It’s true, blue means that to elves, however, a red, flowing wedding dress is most desired.” She drifts about the girl before Glurza spoke up.

“You are not a virgin.” Glurza looks back, with growing Jehanne self-conscious, blinking as her eyes went elsewhere from the two.

“What on earth are you talking about?” The blonde maintained a steady tone of bother, “Just believe her if she says so.”

“She’s not, I can smell it on here, I’ll show you.”

“Bless, Glurza, do not stress her today.” She interrupted, touching the younger girl’s shoulders. Jehanne simply touched the woman’s finger with a soft graze before Glurza rolls her eyes.

“It shouldn’t be stressful, look, when are we going out there?” Glurza stood up, lacing her boots as she rolls her eyes.

“In an hour, if you don’t stress her too much before then.” She looks to Jehanne. “Tonight will be the best of your life, you’re becoming a wife, after all.”

The village was ecstatic, but not for the ceremony, but more for the after party. Lyraesel had left to prepare for the wedding, as being the chief’s wife she had to be the elder sister of all the wives in a sense; she took care of all Soul Bonding and domestic aiding.

Glurza left midday, getting her brother shoveled off as so Jehanne could get to the location without being seen by him and his mother was her escort. “You look nice, Weakling.”

“Thank you, Miss Snakzob, how is your son?”

“He’s nervous as hell, I don’t know why, I believe you’ll be a good wife.” She continued down the village, women wave to the older woman as men moved to give her room. Jehanne watched with some content, seeing the elderly being respected.

“They must like you.” She comments, cheerfully as the woman huffs.

“They like my Partner’s honor; your mate’s honor is yours.” SkullCrusher touched her ring, caressing the animal’s skull proudly imbedded to the metal. “Remember his honor is yours, and your honor is his.”

Jehanne beams, “I promise to remember.” She walks along the dirt road, watching the people and children, there always were children playing. “Do they ever rest?”

“Fortunately, after supper when ma thinks she’s had enough.” She smiles to one tired looking orc woman, as Jehanne watched her, feeling the dread of her own fate. “God is it worth it. Your children complete you.”

Jehanne paused before her eyes met the green woman again. The world seemed to quieten down, the dragging of her long hair the only thing heard. “Ma’am… I have to tell you something.”

The woman raises an eyebrow; she was huddled over, seeming to struggle with steps. She almost felt terrible for having her as a chaperone. “What is it, Human?”

She took a breath, “Juhka and I, already did things.” She confessed it was the first time she said it out loud and it almost felt wrong to her ears. The woman shook her head.

“How do you know you wanna be Soul Partners if you haven’t fucked?” She groused, they step to the clearing, it had no usual equipment for this sort of event. No chairs or stand for the person in charge to ensure it was official.

“So.. how does this work?” She asked as the woman took a seat in the grass, Jehanna quickly coming to help her sit.

“Don’t worry your dumb head about it- it’ll be taken care of for you.” She breathed, trying to stable herself. “You worry about the party and being a perfect bride.”

“What’s expected of me, Miss?” She sat down beside her, as she leans on her hands, looking up to the walls of rock and cave, the tops of the rocks and sides had paintings of so many patterns and stories, one could stare for hours trying to figure them out.

“You will bear children, of course, cook meals, mind the house, and make the children warriors. Teach them our ways, the father will help. An orc’s pride is his family, his reason to fight.” She touched her lap, looking across her village. “My Ghavrar was one mighty beast. Blonde means weak, but he didn’t let that stop him. Red means unloyalty, black is the fairest hair color. He was almost chief, but his size held him back.”

“I’m sorry you lost such a husband,” Jehanne told solemnly, she touched the forearm of the woman. “Your son is like your father, he is a brilliant man.”

The other looked at her, sighing quietly. “I do hope.”

The time spent there was peaceful, she heard many stories of the siblings’ youth and of their father, their father was a closed-off man, tough, and taught his children to be strong. She wondered if her own father would enjoy this man, or, even her own birth father would find him his equal.

She had an image in her head of her birth parents, sweet, kind people, who both share brunette hair, her pale skin, her father blue-eyed with her mother sharing the green eye trait. The two were selfless people, who died tragically in her own stories of them.

The cave was dimming once more; the field was soon filled with the villagers. The chief’s family swept up Jehanne from the widow, leaving to about the middle of the reimbursement. Her eyes caught Kerylu, she had her hair in a braided updo with flowers decorating it, the girl wore a simple, noble dress. She was forced beside Lyraesel, her hand close.

“Jehanne, everything is going beautifully; Glurza is bringing all the food, Snakzob is going to Juhka but they will return.” The wife brushes any dirt off the bride, as the Chief left to greet his friends. Kerylu tried to sneak off, but the Elf kept her hand firmly holding hers.

“I know I haven’t told you when the male Soul Bonder leaves for his final trip before the Soul Bond, it’s customary to bring a gift on this ceremonial day.” She chirped, seeming to be reliving her own day through the girl, nonetheless, she was happy for her. She reached and softly held the hand of the bride. She gave her a reason to force the daughter to dress up, and she knew Lyraesel true excitement was there. The bonding had lightened up the village, it felt nice to have such an impact.

“More to feel excited for.” The elf adds, releasing the girl’s hand, keeping ahold of her own daughter’s. “Be prepared for the party, it can get a bit… Chaotic. But it’s what they like to do.” She looks about, “Just stand here and relax.” She hurried off.

The unorganized and scattered crowd began to form an actual circle; a small ring was formed onto the ground. The Chief was now in tribal attire for the occasion; Jehanne watched what was happening before her, afore being grabbed by the elf.

The women wore true dresses, as the children for the first time had to stop playing before candles were blown out. Some men held drums, beginning to beat them. Her hands instinctually covered her ears as she heard a flute. The elf held her arm, guiding her towards the circle. She looks about for her mate- already seeing him stand.

The women made their way to the circle, Glurza, with her usual smirk, stood beside her brother. It had been the first time she had taken in his sight for almost two weeks, she wanted to say something, but instead, he took her hand, bringing her inside the circle with him. They faced the chief, the drums got softer, the flute grew higher in volume but calmer in pattern.

The Elvan woman had released her hold, her hands behind her, folded formally as Glurza merely crossed her arms.

His speak were ancient tongue; the spell did not reach such words. Godrun continued his speech, this took some time, she kept respectful, looking ahead, hands held together in front of her.

He grew quiet, the drum fading as she looked about for an example of a reaction before the Orcish man snatches her from the ground and left a rough kiss upon her.

The tusks press to her jawline, legs dangling from the grassy earth. The kiss was passionate and long. She was placed down, trying to catch her breath as the Cave Village cheers, Glurza screams at the top of her lungs an ancient cheer of their ancestors, they leave to the feast of food as one man begun a fire to sit about.

Jehanne was once again guided by her now husband, she presumed, losing both of her female friends in the crowds of people. The chief and his family ate first, before Juhka and his bride. The meal was short, the village devoured her food noisily and just as impatiently as the pack had, then came the alcohol, and any sliver of a chance of this celebration being mild was dusted.

Ale, mead, and anything in between was served among groups. The newly bonds were still sitting on a log, still enjoying a bit of the meal. Songs were played loudly as most of the light was now being illuminated by the flames.

She watched as Glurza head locked men twice her size, the elf was dancing, her daughter held up high by her husband, bouncing about as his offspring laughs. Jehanne smiles, finishing her bite as she looked content.

“You cry?” Juhka asked as Jehanne exhaled.

“Sometimes.. a lot.”

His eyebrow raised in utter shock, before going back to their furrowed state, staring forward. “You learned our language very quickly.”

“Godrun’s wife… Mate helped me.” She watches the Orcs continue their fun, female Orcs were now handing their children off to older ones and having them leave. “Your children are very independent.”

“Have to be, in case of attack.” He scratched his knee softly, leaning forward as he bit off pieces of the meat he held. “We are very prepared for attacks, you’ll be safe here.”

“My safety has been promised a lot here.” She chuckles awkwardly, as he hums.

“Where you were before, wasn’t safe. You weren’t safe, you dealt with dark elves, Goblins, Night Walkers-“

“You.” She interrupted, as he grumbled, looking to the flames as if offended.

“We wouldn’t hurt kids.”

“Would you have hurt my mother?” She asked slowly, looking at him with interest.

“Of course, she owed us debt. Not you. We gave protection to so many monsters.”

“You and that girl would have been safe.” He looked at her, poking at the sharp area of his tusk as she almost smiled.

“I miss her; I miss my sister so much.”

“Lyraesel sends letters to her family up north, the ones who couldn’t get to her before she was given to the elves in that village.” He breathed deeply, taking in long inhales, speaking amongst them. “I would allow you to give me letters for her, and when something happens to her mother.. we’ll bring her.”

“By choice?” Jehanne sat up, looking suspicious of him. He grits his teeth, not from anger it seemed.

“Would you give her the choice of danger?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Thoughtlessly she needed her there now, she wanted her sister, to see her and hold her. Marisol wasn’t hers to take, though she would pray for the rest of her life for such a gift.

She knew she could never have this, for she would never have a full life. She would be an Orc’s bride or a simple warrior for the Walled City to control. The world had more to offer her; she was too smart to be taken away.

She speculated if her father thought such a thing about her. Her thoughts were cut short by Juhka standing, offering his hand. “I’m tired of talking; I want to have fun before the mead is gone.”

Thus the pair left to the center of the commotion, she nursed the beer stein she was given, it tasted rotten and it made her feel nauseated, her gullet fought against the liquid going down.

Glurza was rooting on a woman who socked a man in the stomach, who then got uppercut, being chucked into a lawn of another Cave Dweller, she jumped to her feet holding her cracked mug of ale, laughing heartily the whole way.

The elf and her daughter were starting to be hung on by randoms, as the Chief guides them off back to their home for their comfort. The night advanced, the riskless activities begun to occur rapidly, and Jehanne grew light-headed.

Juhka and Glurza could gulp down an entire glass of booze before a moment past, they seemed to settle into the effects of intoxications. She found herself against his sleeve, her eyes closing as she groans.

Jekha had been kissing her, and keeping her safe from the others as he joked and played with his sister.

“Aw you got yourself a lightweight, go take her home before she’s too passed out and just starfishes.” Glurza hands him a finale drink, he swallowed it before wrapping his arm around her shoulder, holding her hand taking her towards his home.

“Am I pretty?” She asked, slurred as she played with the tassels of his deerskin jacket, his hair still tightly in the ponytail, having it braided with colorful beads.

He mumbles, following the trail as the door opens with his mother showing to be inside.

“Spent hours waiting.” She spat harshly, she was softly bouncing a bundle of rags, looking down as her rough expression melts into a calmed smile.

“Thank you. The honor of your deed is great.” He expressed, his arms left her side, taking the item in his arms.

“This adopting deed is odd.” She told. “To take a random parentless child is weird; we haven’t done that since we closed the cave.”

“Jehanne.” He faced the girl, who quickly sobered up realizing what was in the dirty rags. She was quick to take the creature in her arms, as the mother smiles softly.

“Well, she certainly likes it. If I want any god damn mead before I rot I gotta go.” She did give her goodbyes to her son, as Jehanne watched the infant in her arms. It wasn’t an Orc nor human.

It was a dark elf, often bandits or other criminals, unlike Noble Elves who live in communities or in the Walled City. Dark elves stayed in forests, and often preyed on travelers who sleep, taking their things, or weak enough, robbing them in daylight.

Jehanne and Marisol had once been the poor victims of these attacks during a travel to the Walled City.

They often had unnatural skin-colors, as Elves had peachy, or dark tinted skin tones as Dwarfs or Humans. They range anywhere in winter colors.

This baby was utterly breathtaking, no older than a week old. He was a dark violet, with wisps of silvery hair; his nose was dusted with silvery freckles. He breathed softly, so calm, just as Marisol.

The first few weeks were so peaceful. She bounced the infant, tears forming as she tried to wipe them. “How did you-“

“Dark elves tried to attack our camp.” He opens the door, allowing her inside. “Only child in camp thought it would be a good Soul Bond gift.”

She looked down at the purple little one, rocking them softly. “Beautiful… do we have supplies? Can I pick his name?”

“I got him for you.. Because you kept crying over your family, I didn’t want you lonely. Loneliness is dangerous for women.” He gestures to the living room. “My ma brought us all of our baby things. It was short notice, but she babysat for the party too.”

“Your mother is.. amazing, she’s just amazing.” She steps about the living room, his home much larger than Glurza, the living room had a single wooden chair, it possessed an oven, a bedroom, and what was either a closet or bathroom. She never knew how grateful she was for indoor bathrooms before her stay at Glurza.

She found a Moses basket; she gently placed the child inside. It swallowed the baby, the carrier was so large for just a newborn she almost felt the swift anxiety of ever birthing the species meant for the basket. Juhka stood beside her, almost uncomfortably.

“He’s a boy; I don’t know how old… but he’s still young. He will have no memory of his birth parents.”

“Thank you for this, I’m sure he’ll keep my mind busy.” She assures, trying to push the thought of why he was orphaned, “I’ll name him… Porfirio. It just suits him.” She leans her head against the Orc once more. “I feel tired.”

“Was this your first-night drinking?” He took her to the bedroom, as she nods.

“We could never afford that.” She looks up at him. “You have a beautiful voice.” She exhales smiling widely, as Juhka sat beside her. He just mumbles quietly.

She tried to peel off his jacket with soft giggling. “When did that baby eat last?”

“Ma told me she had found a nursing woman to feed him, not too long ago.”

He allowed her to slip off his jacket, as she placed it upon herself. She sat in its warmth, looking just as happy and tipsy as one could be while still able to care for a child. She grabbed his jawline, smashing her lips with his. It hurt her worse, but it didn’t matter.

She had a twirling of feelings knotting in her stomach, and in her teenage mind she already knew she loved him. She had to, this was her new home. He propped her up, hunching over.

The two under the influence lovers’ flop against the bed, she huffs, feeling the familiar scorching sensation his weight brought, trying to remove the jacket. The two kiss, out of rhythm or pattern as their clothes were removed by a mess of themselves and the other.

Juhka, despite his state of mind, was composed as he didn’t put his entire weight on her, kicking off his bead-trimmed shoes and pants. Jehanne found herself touching his orange hair, feeling the braids and beads structured within it.

She seemed more relaxed and less sickened this turn, as perhaps it was her drink, or the amount of mistreatment Glurza dishes out, but she felt nothing but affection for him. She wraps her legs around him, as encasing him as he felt her skin once more.

They could still hear the party outside, drowning out their heavy breathing. He supported himself by his arms on each side of her head, looking down at her as she smiles, holding onto his arms as he positioned himself.

This time she was more prepared, and he found it simple as he entered her, her lips part as she allows a soft groan to escape her throat. Her body allowed his girth, pinning her down with his weight, his thrusts began slow, allowing her to come accustom to such treatment, before they transform into powerful, quick shoves.

She grabbed a tusk, forcing him back to her level to kiss him once more, her legs wrapping around his waist, cries, yells, and more sounds of pleasure rang from her mouth, showing her permission.

As he used her, grunting and gritting his teeth, he realized her butterfly kisses stop- and she was snoring. She was factually, actually asleep. 

Feeling slighted, he yanked her to the side, the two slackened on the mattress, as he now used her hips to shove to her core, she of course awoke to this. She placed a hand of his to her breast, she felt the bliss as before as her diffidence, her nervousness, and general dislike for her life melted.

She felt hot and smothered, a layer of sweat formed as hair stuck to her face, she could feel the burning hot drops of sweat of her partner. He then moved again, this time resting on his back with her atop him again.

She knew he had to enjoy this position, she took her footing, now having much more space and energy, she moved upward, making quick, hyper motions against him, rutting into his crotch as he roared and held onto her back.

For several minutes she was moving against him, feeling the budge leave her body, making an imprint upon her stomach before he moved once more, pulling her by the mane as he laid her against the pillow, face shoved inside as he took her once more.

This position lasted the shortest amount of time, as the two exhausted lovers were beyond pent up for almost two entire weeks, the sensitivity the alcohol brought, and the roughness brought Juhka’s in a matter of thrusts, he had tried to make Jehanne cum a second time, but she had come with the last powerful shove, and was now snoring once more.

He drooped to her side, setting her face from the cloth so she would not suffocate as her eyes lazily opened. “You kept moving me.” She groaned, turning to curl against his stomach, he pulls the blanket upon them, draping her within it.

“You kept falling asleep.” He retorts, moving her hair from her face, she looked spent and worn, most of the makeup smeared off with her hair undone and tangled.

She mumbles, taking his hand and laying her face on it. “I’m so cold.”

“You’re sweating.” He wiped her wet forehead, she tensed her facial features.

The sudden sound of the crying baby made them both shutter.

“He hasn’t eaten in hours, he must be hungry.” She was quick to sit up, the blanket on her lap.

“Mom might have left food in the cooling storage.” He suggests, resting back down as she left. She found the cooling storage to be under a mismatched floorboard, with thankfully, one bottle, it was made of glass, with string attaching the nipple to it. she took the crying infant, changing his cloth diaper, and took him to bed.

She laid him between the two on the pillow they shared, feeding him as Juhka touched the child’s stomach, chuckling.

“It’s so fucking tiny.”

“Mm.. and so cute, our little Po.” She coos, after he was done with his feeding, she felt too tired to go put him back to bed- besides; he would be up in hours anyhow being hungry or to be changed.

The newly bonded laid, bodies close, embracing each other as the baby slept between their heads.

All she could ask for in her life was here, she felt safe and loved. She had a child to spend her life with- and a husband.

…

I made a playlist for this, Facetclod was super nice. Gave me a lot of positive feedback, she is a great person and should have much more attention for her art, personality, and overall professionalism. Please, again, check her out: http://facetclod.tumblr.com/


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